Desiderium
by writhen heart
Summary: Three years after the war, and you live your life day by day. You want more, but more of what, exactly? You have a sneaking suspicion about what you're missing. Then one day, you know for sure.


**Disclaimer:** Don't own Harry Potter.

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Violence, dark themes

**Written for: **_The Secret Battle Competition_, Battle 2, run by the beautiful Bexie :) Used the prompts: Harry Potter, Emerald, Happiness, The Burrow, Rabbit

Also entered in the _Scavenger Hunt Competition_ for 2.

* * *

Happiness is a fleeting thing these days, as slippery as a flobberworm and as elusive as a unicorn. You take what little pleasures you can get. Hunting down straggling Death Eaters and other dark wizards. Eating Mrs Weasley's pastries for dessert, still steaming hot. Watching the sun set over the fields, making the grass glow red like fire. But it's not enough. You want more. But more of what?

You think you might know. You have a sneaking suspicion. It's the same thing that makes Hermione beam and Ron blush. The same thing that drew George out of his shell and keeps Mr and Mrs Weasley going. It's what Ginny wanted from you, that you couldn't give.

One day, you know for certain what it is. You've gotten to know Charlie better after the war. He took a year's break from work to stay at the Burrow and help with Hogwarts repairs. You discover that he is funny, strong, and kind - and attractive. And gay.

Three years after the war ended, he brings home his boyfriend. His family is shocked, though they try to be polite. Mrs Weasley, ever accommodating, brushes over the awkwardness with food, and everyone feels a little more comfortable.

You can't help staring. They met in Romania, and bonded over their affinity with dragons. They've been dating a year now and they are very happy. They've moved in together.

It feels like a punch in the gut, and you know now. _He_ is what you so desperately want. For years and years, though you've never recognised it. You feel the need so keenly that it hurts. What can you do? Because you must do something. You can't live without him now that you know what you're missing out on.

They return to the Dragon Reserve the next day and you follow. You watch as they walk to their little white brick cottage, hand in hand. Something cold and slimy and black twists its way through your chest. A plan forms quickly in your head.

The following day, Charlie rises early to tend to the baby dragons. You know, because you've been watching the cottage all night. You trail close behind under your Invisibility Cloak. Your eyes scan the wide open grounds, glimmering in the rich rays of dawn. There is no one else around. _Good_.

The baby dragons are kept in a kind of barn, like a petting zoo, but with chain mail curtains over the pens so that they can't fly away. Charlie sits on a stool and lays all his equipment on a low wooden bench. There's instruments to clip toenails and remove ingrown scales and all sorts of other things you can't begin to imagine. Charlie summons a bottle from the other side of the barn, and it nearly hits you in the head as it zooms towards him. It's a thick glass bottle, about three litres, with a strong rubber head.

He crouches down beside the first pen, and beckons the baby dragon over. It comes quickly, obviously familiar with its keeper, and Charlie unbolts the squeaky door. He gathers the dragon in his arms, and puts the bottle in its mouth. He hums to it as it drinks, stroking its scales gently as if it were a fluffy little rabbit, rather than a freakish reptilian beast. He is so calm and content and happy that you almost regret it. Almost.

"_Imperio_."

Charlie's eyes glaze over and you sigh in relief. You slip off the Cloak and kneel in front of him.

"Put the dragon back in its cage, Charlie," you murmur.

He does, despite the baby's protests at having its feed cut short.

"Good. You will go back to your cottage and break up with Draco. You will tell him that you don't love him anymore. Do you understand?"

Charlie blinks a few times, his fingers twitching and he shakes his head. "Harry? What are you doing?"

Your heart pounds and you try again.

"You will go back to your cottage and break up with him."

Charlie stands, stumbles backwards and reaches for his wand. You spring up, disarm him, then rush forward, pinning him against the bars of the pen.

"Stop struggling!" You hiss.

But the spell is broken and his eyes are clear. He pushes you backwards.

"What the hell? Have you gone mad?"

It's not working. He's ruining it. You freeze in your panic and he dives for your wand. You fight for it, finally wrenching it free from his grasp, but he trips you over the wooden bench and it goes flying. You reach up and grab his jacket, then kick him hard in the shins. He falls on top of you and you twist him underneath you. You squeeze him around the neck, and look up frantically for your wand. It's a few meters away. But you see something else that can help. Charlie is clawing at your fingers, face going purple. You reach out and grab the scaling scalpel.

His blood is a deep, dark red, that contrasts nicely with his pale skin, but clashes horrendously with his hair. It stains your hands. You wipe them on his faded jeans and stand up.

You Apparate to the cottage. It's quiet as you slip through the door. You step silently through the living room and into the bedroom. Draco is still sleeping. He's elongated over the mattress, the white sheets only covering one side of his body. He's not wearing anything at all. You kick your shoes off and lie beside him.

He's like an angel. Blonde hair like snowflakes. Smooth skin like silk. You reach out a finger breathlessly and slowly stroke down his face. He smells like vanilla essence body wash, and rain and-

"Charlie."

You curl your finger back.

"Charlie," he mumbles again, stretching an arm toward you.

You let it drape over your shoulders, ignoring the fact that he said the wrong name, and let yourself savour the thrill of his touch.

He shuffles and yawns. His eyes flutter open.

They are grey and sparkly, and so pellucid that you can see your own emerald eyes reflected back, like you're staring into crystal clear water.

He gasps and sits up.

"What are doing here?!"

You grab his hand. "Shh, calm down."

He pulls himself free and jumps off the bed. "Get the fuck out of my house!"

You smile. He's got such a sexy voice. "It's our house now."

His eyes dart around and you summon his wand from the bed side table before he has the chance.

"Don't worry," you reassure him, sliding off the bed. "He's gone. We can be together now. We can be happy."

"Where's Charlie?"

Your eye twitches and you grit your teeth. "Gone."

He's hitting you, punching you in the face and then he's on top of you, screeching and he's got your wand and you are so happy. He is so beautiful and you are so close. But he's still saying the wrong name.

"It's Harry," you say, but it's drowned out by his screaming.

He sends a Patronus. It's a dragon. You pull the wand away from him.

He is strong but you are stronger. You hold his shoulders and rock him back into the creamy carpet ground.

"Draco." You whisper it reverently. Over and over again. He stiffens as you kiss along his whiskery jaw and down his long neck. Then back up to his soft, pink lips. You are in ecstasy. This is it. You've found it.

There is a crash and heavy footsteps. A group of Aurors burst into the room. You're torn off him and bound with charmed ropes and you scream. Draco is backed against the wall, and it's only now that you see the blood smudged over his face. The blood on your hands. Charlie's blood.

They Disapparate with you and it feels like you've been ripped away from your life source. They won't let you back, not ever. And you'll never be happy again.

* * *

**A/N:** Review, if you please :)


End file.
